Unpredictable
by Nanaho-Hime
Summary: For Reviews Lounge Summer Project: Summers with him were always so unpredictable. She never thought she'd fall in love so young or so hard, especially not with a tall skinny photographer with an immunity to veela charm Gabrielle Delacour/Dennis Creevey


Unpredictable

By Nanaho-Hime

Disclaimer: I do not own hp

For the Reviews Lounge Summer Project

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Gabrielle Delacour loved the summers she spent in Paris, with her good friend Beatrice in Monsieur Chevelier's studio. Summers in Paris were magical; there was lunch on the Seine, or by the Eiffel tower, making fun of tourists who didn't have a clue, sitting in the pews of Notre Dame and listening to the magnificent choir. The weather was predictable, the fun was predictable, the summer crushes were predictable.

And then one summer, the summer she turned fourteen, it wasn't.

She didn't think she'd fall in love so young or so hard. He wasn't even attractive, well he was cute, so very cute, but, he wasn't hot. He was taller than her, and so skinny he looked like he'd snap in half if it got too windy outside. He had permanent bags underneath his blue eyes, and a camera around his neck at all times of the day.

Dennis Creevey was working on an internship in Paris, in Beatrice's father's studio, and he was so hopelessly clueless that Gabrielle just had to help him. She'd feel immoral if she left the naïve tourist by himself. And she fell in love with him, but she was fourteen and he was eighteen and he had refused to get involved with her. He'd insisted that the age gap was too much, and that she was underage and that he just didn't feel for her that way, he barely knew her.

It had left her perturbed really, that he was not even remotely attracted to her. She'd remembered Fleur describing what it was like, to have a man who saw past veela charm, but she's had her doubts. It had infuriated her, that he was too much of a prude. He was absolutely ridiculous about the age difference, when she'd try to argue using Fleur and Bill's case, he'd pointed out that Fleur had been eighteen when they had started dating. Any other man would have been overjoyed to have a beautiful young girl pursue him so ardently but Dennis wasn't.

_You're fourteen, enjoy being a teenager._

She'd been quite shameless in her advances. She'd moved into his apartment, refusing to be ousted, claiming that he needed a guide due to his poor French skills. Everything she did to tempt him didn't work. He was staunch in his resolve.

Despite everything, she accompanied him on his quest to create the perfect portfolio, and she realized that she really did love him; not just as someone who was unattainable, but as a human being who'd suffered the loss of someone very dear to him; and as a man who tried to capture every beautiful moment in his photography.

Because he knew, better than most, that they might not last very long.

_You know, he took pictures of everyone, everything, but he never took pictures of himself, so…I've got nothing._

In the beginning it had been infatuation. He was just another fish to catch, but the expression on his face when he spoke about his brother, or when he took a picture, or when they were just friends and he called her 'Gabby' she knew she was in love.

The day he had to go back to England, she thought her heart would break. It was like the day Fleur left, moved to England to be with Bill, and she was breaking.

_I'll write you Gabby, I promise I'll write you_

He did write to her, but he was always cautious, and always the first to remind her that she was too young and that she'd change her mind eventually and she'd fall in love with a handsome French boy and forget all about him.

She knew that she wouldn't, because she couldn't look at other boys anymore. Beatrice made fun of her, quoting Shakespeare, and offering to save her a spot at the nunnery. Gabrielle didn't care, she saved every one of his letters, read and reread them until they were torn at the edges and fading.

The summer she turned seventeen, she got fed up waiting for him to visit, so it was decided that she would spend the summer with Fleur and Bill and her new niece, Victoire, at Shell Cottage.

Summers in Britain were different than Paris, so very unpredictable. The rain, for one, was ridiculously sporadic. She'd be out, tanning on the beach, and a few minutes later she'd be soaked to the bone, and then the sun would come out again as though nothing had happened.

Dennis didn't call on her. It took a few days for Gabrielle to pluck up the courage to mention Dennis, and it took her big sister all of about two minutes to convince Bill to take Gabby down to the Creevey studio. Upon entering the studio, she was disappointed to find out that he was out.

The young woman, who had informed them of Dennis's absence, stared unabashedly at Gabby.

"Wait, did you say Gabrielle Delacour?"

Gabby nodded, crestfallen, and wanting nothing more than to crawl back into bed. She'd never see him again.

"OH MY MERLIN'S PANTIES!"

Gabrielle jumped back, and Bill snickered as the brunette jumped up to shake Gabby's hand vigorously.

"I'm sorry it's just so exciting, meeting you," the young witch babbled, "Dennis talks about you all the time, and, oh sorry I haven't introduced myself, Natalie Macdonald,"

Gabby had heard nothing past 'Dennis talks about you all the time'. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, and the warmth spread to her fingertips.

Natalie was chatting a mile a minute; she took a hold of Gabrielle's arm and led her to a messy room, hidden in the corner. On the disorganized desk, one picture stood out.

It was from the summer they met, and it was of her. She was standing on top of a stone wall, balancing as she stared up at Notre Dame on the other side of the river. Her silvery hair blew out around her, her half lidded eyes nostalgic and content.

He kept a picture of her on his desk.

Natalie seemed pleased by the expression on Gabrielle's face, "I know he goes on and on about how there's nothing going on between you two, but sometimes he slips up and when people ask who she is, he calls you his girlfriend."

Gabrielle went back to the cottage with Bill, nearly giddy with her newfound information.

Two days later, Dennis Creevey came up behind her on the beach, took a seat beside her.

She felt herself go still, her breath stopped. He didn't look at her. He stared out into the sea.

"Give it up, Miss Delacour."

It was as though he had slapped her.

"No."

She was obstinate and he was clearly frustrated with her.

"I'm not going to change my mind about you Gabby, we had one fun summer, you had a crush, it's ridiculous for you to come all the way here just to find me."

She didn't look at him, for fear that if she did, she'd cry. Gabrielle never cried in public. The very thought of tearing up in front of people made her stomach churn with humiliation.

"I'm of age now."

It was all she could think to say.

He groaned in his exasperation, and shifted away from her.

"I don't know what Natalie told you, but don't listen to her, she's a matchmaker."

Gabrielle blinked rapidly, felt her voice grow smaller and smaller.

"But I saw zee picture on your desk."

If she had taken the chance to glance at him she would have seen a flush on his cheeks.

"There are tons of pictures in my office, pictures of Colin and the DA and my family, and Natalie and Stew, and Orla, and my mates back home, and so of course there's something going on between me and all of them too."

There was a bitter sarcasm in his voice. She didn't believe him to be so cruel, but she snapped, jumping up abruptly, her eyes flashing.

"But I love you!"

Dennis had stood to confront her, an anger she'd never seen before in his mild blue eyes.

"You keep saying that Gabby, but do you know anything about love? You're just being stubborn."

Gabrielle was horrified to find herself struggling to fight back the tears. It made her angry; downright furious, his dismissive tone and his scornful gaze.

"Don't you look down on me Dennis Creevey," she shouted, her voice almost incoherent due to her heavy French accent "I know I love you, I haven't gone on a date in three years, I read your letters and I read them again, When you call me Gabby I feel I'll die of happiness, when you smile at me my heart wants to burst, and when we're apart I'm broken, and right now I'm making a fool out of myself, telling you all this."

Big fat, ugly tears made their way down her cheeks, smearing her makeup. Dennis looked as though she'd punched him. He lifted up a hand uncertainly, unsure whether or not to comfort her.

She wouldn't give him the chance, "My favorite memory is our summer, the summer I met you, I've made a complete idiot out of myself, but forgive me for bothering you Monsieur Creevey, I won't be forcing my affections onto you again!"

She ran into the house, leaving him standing in the sudden, unexpected downpour, looking helpless.

Fleur took one look at her stricken face when she entered the cottage, and had quickly ushered her up the stairs. Fleur was the only one Gabby felt comfortable crying with. Her older sister stroked her hair, comforting her.

"Darling, has it ever occurred to you that Dennis is insecure?"

Gabrielle sniffled and buried her head into the pillow.

"Maybe he's afraid you'll change your mind, maybe he's afraid that if he does let himself love you, you will find someone else, or you'll get bored of him."

Fleur held her sister close, "You know it's not easy for him either, you're young, you're beautiful, and you can do better."

"But I don't want to do better." Her words were muffled by the pillow.

Fleur smiled, "But he wants you to do better, what does that tell you?"

"That he's an idiot," Gabby's voice was muffled by the pillow.

Fleur ruffled her baby sister's hair, "It means he loves you Gabby, it means he's afraid that he's not good enough."

Gabby wasn't convinced. It had seemed clear to her that Dennis viewed her as nothing more than a silly little girl, a nuisance and someone to pity. She tried her best not to think of him as the summer dragged on. She tried to fill her days by playing with her beloved niece. Victoire was so very dear to her. She played peek-a-boo and read her fairy tales and dreamt of the day she'd have her own little girl. It was difficult not to think of Dennis when she thought of her own family.

She was going to leave Britain come summer's end.

It was a few days before she was scheduled to leave, and she was sitting in the living room. Victoire had fallen asleep in her arms, when the doorbell rang. She mentally cursed out whoever was at the door as Victoire awoke and began to howl.

"Hush little one," Gabby cooed as she opened the door, ready to scold the intruder.

She nearly dropped Victoire when she caught sight of Dennis Creevey, dressed in muggle attire, looking sheepish and embarrassed.

"Sorry to interrupt, did I make her cry?"

Before she could react, he had swept the wailing baby into his arms.

"I'm sorry sweet-heart," he crooned softly; "I didn't mean to upset you."

If she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was apologizing to her, in his own roundabout way.

He rocked her gently, until she dozed off again. Why had he come, seeing him, being so soft with Victoire, she could fall in love with him again.

"Is there a crib?"

Regaining control, Gabrielle pursed her lips and nodded curtly. Afraid that she'd wake Vicky, she waited until after he had placed her in the crib, and after they returned to the living room. Her gaze was much too frigid for the warm, humid summer day.

"Bill and Fleur are out"

He kept his expression demure, "I didn't come to see Bill or Fleur."

Gabby crossed her arms against her chest, "Well, what do you want?"

He didn't answer her right away. He fidgeted a bit, his eyes roving the room, coming to rest on family photographs.

"I guess I was right."

It wasn't the answer she was expecting.

"Bill came to talk to me, but see how easy you got over it?"

He was mostly speaking to himself now. His tone was light, but there was a subtle hint of disappointment and resignation.

"For what it's worth," his eyes finally rested on the window behind her, overlooking the ocean, "Our summer, was the summer I started to heal, it was the summer I knew I was going to be okay."

They stood in silence, and the emotion welled up inside her.

"That picture of you, on my desk, is my most popular photograph, everyone tries to buy it, but I won't sell it, I can't sell it."

Dennis was frightened. She could see it now.

"I love you."

She would put herself out there, one last time.

He finally tore his gaze away from the sea and stared at her.

"You're leaving in a few days right?"

She nodded mutely, her breath hitched.

"I won't stop writing letters, and I'll visit you next summer."

They stood in silence, and Gabby internally debated her next move. He closed the gap between them with tentative steps. They were a mere inch apart, and she had frozen, too frightened that she'd break his resolve. He took a hold of her hand.

"You're not underage anymore,"

"No."

Slowly, unsurely he bent over and softly pressed his lips to hers.

It was the first time he had kissed her. She'd caught him off guard on a few occasions and had forced him into a few kisses before he had pushed her away, but this time it was of his own volition.

Summers were theirs. It was when they fell in love with the world all over again, when everything was full and bright and alive. It would forever be their time.

He pulled away from her, but he didn't let go of her hand.

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A/N: I'm really unsure of how this turned out :/ I hope that it's enjoyable enough. Please take the time to review, this was really experimental for me and I'd love some feedback on how it turned out.


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